


River of Thames

by Staarie_Eyes



Category: Julius Caesar - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst and Tragedy, Historical, M/M, Tragedy, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:42:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29798310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Staarie_Eyes/pseuds/Staarie_Eyes
Summary: An AU taking place in medieval London that follows the basic plot of Shakespeare's tragedy, Julius Caesar, and the romantic relationship between Cassius and Brutus.
Relationships: Marcus Junius Brutus the Younger/Gaius Cassius Longinus
Kudos: 2





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write this for my reading class (:

##  **Part One:**

The sounds of war and bloodshed are around me. But all my mind is able to focus on is the gently rushing of the River of Thames, playful lapping at the banks, and lulling me into my final moments. So many extraordinary things were brought to me from the River of Thames. Love. Hate. Arguments. Resolution. And death. Death of my own being. Death of my soldiers. Death of my dear, dear Cassius brings my mind back to simpler times. 

That morning. That stupid morning before the sporting event at the grand course. Cassius begged to see me at the Thames, so he wouldn’t be tempted while in public. I went. But I caused an argument. I was the catalyst in this tragic reaction. If I had only shut my mouth about my stupid, selfish idea. Cassius would have never thought of that idea. If I never opened my mouth, he would have never convinced me. And if he never convinced me, I would have never done that to Sir Caesar. If I had never done that...

Sir Caesar would be alive. 

Sir Caesar is dead. And it’s my fault. 

Cassius is dead too. 

Oh... Dear, Cassius. I’m sorry. 

Sir Caesar. Im sorry. 

Please forgive me. This is my fault. I’m so sorry. 

If I never opened my mouth. None of this would have happened. Rome would be in peace. No one would have died. 

I caused this. 

I caused this and I’m sorry. 

….

Cassius… I’m sorry. 

I love you. I love you, Cassius. I’m sorry. I love you.

… 

Cassius...


	2. Part Two

##  **Part Two:**

As I walked, the lapping waters of the Thames River sloshed on the muddy shores that hugged the body of the river. The sun was peeking through the clouded sky, painting it with shades of pink and purple that so tenderly embraced the city of London. The city was quiet this morning. The bakers slept in, the farmers rolled over in bed ignoring the shrill cry of the roosters, and the mothers held their quilts tighter while their precious babies slept. Despite it not being the Holy Day of Sunday, it was a day granted off. A day of rest. A day to see the gracious, Sir Julius Caesar. 

As the city slept, I strolled along the river’s barrier, staring at the ground as I made my way to uncertainty. I’ve been summoned to meet at the Thames at six am sharp by an unknown sender that night previous. My mind refused to ignore the invitation, being fixated on the letter throughout the night. _Caesar perhaps…_ I pondered, allowing myself to peer upwards, my face now rising to be gently caressed by the sun. _No... Not Caesar. Caesar would directly ask me- and he wouldn’t be caught near the city slums. Trebonius perhaps…_ My mind and conscious thoughts continued to wander down the twisting and winding turns of endless possibility. 

I decided to pause for a moment, reaching into the pocket of his grey trousers to pull out the parchment that has been delivered to him. My eyes read over the words for the tenth time that morning. **‘Dearest Brutus. Please allow me to see you in the morrow. Promptly at six at the bank of Thames.’** was all the paper read. I sighed with defeat as I folded the sheet up and slipped it back into my pocket. _Who wrote this…_ I then asked myself, pulling out my gold pocket watch to consult it for the time. _Five: Fifty-Eight…_ I slid it into his pocket and began to look around the banks. 

_This better not be all for not…_ I scowled at the thought. Waking up at 4 am to meet God-knows-who at the Thames to be stood up, stabbed, or whatever else would surely tick me off for the rest of the day. Especially so, considering I already had to attend a public event. No one was in sight. I figured it would be logical to walk on and go farther down the bank, possibly towards the docks. I didn’t make it twenty paces before he heard an oh-so-familiar voice calling for my attention. 

“Brutus! Brutus!” An older man’s voice yelled. In a slight state of panic, I felt an electric rush zoom up and down my spine, somehow ending in my stomach, and the sensation gave me a nervous fluttering in my guts. The same nervous fluttering I feel whenever I’m around him, think of him, smell him, or hear the mention of his name. I froze, stopping mid-step while I turned to see him. 

_Cassius…_

_Oh, sweet Cassius…_

_How stupid of me. Of course, it was him…_

I couldn’t help but crack a childish smile, all previous anger, and annoyance leaving my body only to be replaced with nervousness and excitement to see Cassius. 

Cassius, with the hair as gold as the shining sun. Cassius. He was rightfully in his late forties, forty-seven to be exact, yet he was ever so spry and spontaneous. It was truly stupid of me to not realize it was him who wanted to meet. Countless times before, he’d pull me from my bed, or my office to meet in the fields of farmland, to the Thames so we could swim in the river, or wander the streets in the shroud of darkness. Times like those were cherished by both of us. Times when we were lost in our own world together. Times when we were true. Times when we were free. 

He briskly walked towards my being before taking my hand and cupping it in his. Even in his older age, his golden-yellow hair was as pigmented, as it was when he was in his prime. 

I shook his head, at myself mostly, for feeling so immature at the emotions that were erupting in my stomach. “You-” I said with a playful laugh. “Me?” Cassius beamed a smile just as childish as my own. I dramatically forced my face into a deliberate frown. “Yes. You.” I said through pursed lips, faking being upset, just to tease him. “Would you rather me be someone else?” Cassius challenged, dropping the young man’s hand from his. 

However, his action caused my face to fall into a true frown. “O-Of course not-” I swiftly protested, the same fallen hand shooting out to reach for Cassius’s. Cassius was a hard person to please, and he was an unstable river after a rainstorm. I could never tell when he was going to explode or not until it was too late. 

“Thought so,” Cassius replied smugly, allowing me to retake his hand. “You wanted to see me?” I found myself attempting to get back to the matter at hand, despite the rushing feelings of jubilance coursing through my veins. “I did,” Cassius replied, a stupid, smug smirk plastered on his face. My eyes stared into the pools of chartreuse that Cassius so elegantly wore. “Then what is it?” I inquired, stepping forward. Cassius’s green eyes flicked away for a second before meeting my gaze once more. 

“I just wanted to see you, before I have to see you in such a… public setting.” Cassius interlocked our fingers. “I’d be staring you know. If we didn’t meet now. I’d be _so_ tempted.” Cassius lifted our conjoined hands to his lips and pressed them onto the back of my hand. I glanced away, looking out towards the river, “You flatter me, Cassius.” “I believe that was the point, Brutus, dear,” Cassius told me. 

“You are going to Caesar’s event, right?” Cassius then asked me. “Unfortunately, I think I am,” I replied with a sigh. Most social interactions drain me, and I rarely attend. I’d rather be tucked away in my office. However, Cassius was much more eccentric than myself, and would usually drag me to events. “Good,” Cassius replied, “You need to get away from your work. You’re always hunched over your desk. You’ll ruin your spine.” 

I rolled my eyes, “Surely, I won’t. This will be a great opportunity to speak to Sir Caesar as well. He’s been awful busy as of late, and I have a new proposal.” I informed Cassius, a great pride sounding in my voice. “Sir Caesar this, Sir Caesar that.” Cassius mocked me. “It’s always ‘Sir Caesar’ with you. Your obsession with him is quite revolting, I must say.” Cassius spoke with a harsh, cutthroat tone. 

Clearly, I had crossed the Rubicon by even bringing up what I wanted to do at this event. I have Cassius a harsh glare. “You chose to summon me this early just to pick a fight? Cassius, please. It’s not the time.” I say in a diplomatic tone, attempting to sound as calm as possible, despite the raging emotion that replaced the joy of seeing him. 

“Well, _I_ think it _is_ the time, Brutus,” Cassius told me in a stern tone. “This is ridiculous, Cassius. I cannot believe you right now.” I told him with a groan. He let go of my hand, “Well it seems apparent to me, that you care more for _Sir Caesar_ than you do for me!” I roll my eyes, “This is absolute hogwash, Cassius. Hogwash!” 

“Surely you cannot be insinuating that you care more for Caesar than you about me? Tell me now, Brutus.” Cassius demanded, his tone only getting louder and more enraged. I scoffed, “Cassius- not now. Please, I am begging you.” I stared him in the eye. His chartreuse eyes somehow appeared even greener, slipping into a deep emerald sheen. I am not intending to back down or cower into submission as I had done in the previous argument we’ve hashed out. This was ridiculous, and Cassius, like always, gets jealous over nothing. 

“Cassius please.” I plead with him. “Oh, so it’s true? You do love _Sir Caesar_?” Cassius was not one to be intimidated. By anyone. The whole city of London knew that, and this knowledge terrified me. There had been so many instances in their romantic relationship, where I had been in the right and would almost have won the argument. But Cassius pushed, and pushed, and pushed. He pushed the limits and the boundaries in every single fight. He shoved so hard that I would give in, to avoid more fighting. 

“I do not love Sir Caesar, Cassius. I am only thirty, Cassius,” I stood tall and took a confident step closer to Cassius, as a way to stand my ground against his rumbling temper. “You do know the nature of Sir Caesar’s relationship with me, don’t you? He is my _mentor_ and I want him to think of me fondly. I don’t want him to think illy of me- of you. Of _us_. If I attend I will be able to ask for political favors. You know you do the same thing, Cassius. You’re the one that taught me that trick!”

“Why do you keep bringing up these stupid political undertones?” Cassius demanded of me. “I have a solid argument, Cassius! If I stock up enough favors from Sir Caesar, then I can do something to change the course of history!” I fired back at him. I felt myself growing more agitated as he continued to push my buttons. “And what could _you_ possibly do?” Cassius struck me with his degrading words and his degrading stare. 

I stumbled over my science before I found my grip once more. “Sir Caesar trusts me, Cassius. If I try hard enough with this- this idea I have, surely he will accept it. And if not- I’ll take over after him and-” I relayed to Cassius, but was cut off before I was able to finish. “What were you thinking of doing, Brutus. Get the point, I do not have all day!” He snapped at me.

I scoff once more, but despite my pride in the idea; I started to feel embarrassed. “I- uhm..” I begin.

“I want to disassemble the church” 

“Y-You do?”

“Yes, Cassius.”

…


	3. Part Three

##  **Part Three:**

My face was turned towards the beaming sun, as it scorched the playing field. If my cheeks weren’t already flushed with the ruby-redness of anger, the sun shall surely have its way with me. I allowed Portia to leave home, while I stayed behind to speak to Sir Caesar one last time, or perhaps Cassius. I hadn’t seen Cassius here this afternoon, and I supposed he decided to stay home. The sun in my eyes finally got too great to bear, turning my face to the left, there he was. 

_ Cassius.  _

I cracked a smile and waved to him. “You decided to show up after all?” I ask, carefully walking through the dusty arena. “I’ve been stuck with the lower ends of his political commerce,” he groaned. “Clearly a jab from  _ Sir Caesar _ ,” he crossed his arm with displeasure. 

“Surely it was a misunderstanding,” I offer him an explanation. 

“Surely it wasn't.” He challenged my statement. 

In no mood to argue, again. I shrugged. “Then it wasn’t,” I replied to him with a heft sigh. 

“Did you propose your idea?” He then asked me. Somehow, these words slapped me harder than any other insult or degrading comment he’s ever made in the past. But this was a simple question. A simple question that insinuated that he cared. 

But it hurt. 

I made an attempt- a poor attempt, albeit, to brush it off and to pretend it didn’t both me. “He wasn’t interested in it quite yet. Something about... Controlling the common folk. If they don’t have religion they’ll be harder to control.” I see the rich pools of chartreuse roll dramatically. I could see the annoyance build on his face. 

“Caesar doesn’t know what’s good for him. He wouldn’t run away from Morta herself if she stared him in the face. He’d probably seduce her if I am being candid.” Cassius scoffed. 

I shake my head, “I suppose.” 

“It’s brilliant- your idea.” Cassius nudged me with his shoulder. “I know it’s brilliant,” I retort quickly. The wound on my pride was still fresh and stinging.

“You’re brilliant.” Cassius nudges me again. 

“I know  _ I’m _ brilliant, Cassius. I am the youngest member in the round table, Sir Caesar’s pet project- and yet everyone undermines my ideas and authority in the capital.” My words left my lips harshly and aggressively. I saw the surprise wash onto Cassius’s face. I never had a reason to use such a tone, typically Sir Caesar, or Cassius, or some other group of people supported my theories and ideas. But this time it was different. 

I was the trailblazer for an idea only a mad man could propose. 

Maybe I was a mad man. 

I do sleep with a man after all. I make a cuck of my wife.

That’s as mad as it gets.

“Caesar needs to be brought down a few pegs,” Cassius noted. “I’ve been pondering this idea for a while, you know. He’s arrogant. He only thinks for the good of himself, haven’t you noticed?” 

“I mean…” I look at Cassius, watching the sinister look in his eyes grow more apparent. “I suppose so. But-”

He cuts me off. “We should do something about this. If we don’t make a change, no one will. And England will fall with Caesar.” 

I shake my head. “You don't suppose-” 

I see him nod and a smile creeps across his face. “Oh, I do suppose.”

“Cassius!” 

“Brutus.”

“You’re mad.”

“I know.”

…

“But if no one takes action now, Brutus. We’ll be watching London burn at our feet.” 

“Surely it won't be that bad.”

“Brutus.”

“Cassius…?”

“Think about it.”


	4. Part Four

##  **Part Four:**

“Et tu, Brute?”

Sir Caesar’s transfixing voice echoed in my head.    
The moment my shining, golden dagger made an impact within Caesar’s bleeding flesh. I felt like vomiting. I felt like I should have died instead.    
As I slid my dagger out of his liver region, blood squirted from the wound. Some of the scarlet liquid splashed onto the flesh of my hand. 

It was warm.

I stated Sir Caesar in the face. He smiled. 

He. Smiled.

A somber smile. Like… he was proud of me. 

Proud for taking a stand, or proud for another brilliant plan to bestow upon the great country of England. 

I watched Caesar’s eyes cloud over, as he sunk to his knees, and fell to his side. 

“My son, Brute, draw near.” His dying, raspy voice called to me like a serene siren. 

I hesitated for a moment. I glance behind me. 

The rest of my clan members stared at the dying man coldly, no emotion on their faces. Aside from pride or mania perhaps. 

The only cold feeling I felt was the freezing breath of Sir Caesar as I brought myself closer to his being. The warm blood on my hand, skidded on the marble, sending me closer to Sir Caesar than I wanted. 

“Why?” His lips whispered out. 

“I-”

I was speechless. I had no words for my actions. I was remorseful. But this had to be done, surely, it had to be done. 

“It was for the good of England.” I bring myself back down to reality and away from my guilty thoughts. 

“Et tu, Brute… et tu, Brute…” Sir Caesar mumbled to himself as he shook his head. 

“Et tu, Brute…?”

“Et tu, Brute…?” 

“Et tu, Brute…?”

Echoed in the marble front of the capitol building. 

His dying words haunted my being, sending chills up and down my spine. 

“Yes. I, Brutus. “ I stared into his face. 

“Et tu Brute…” he raspily called out once more. 

His eyes began to shut, as I watched the life slither out of him like a serpent out of its den. 

A single tear slid down his cheek. 

“et

tu 

brute..."


	5. Part Five

##  **Part Five:**

In the mess of the rubble of the heart of the war, my arms pump as my sides. The hot splash of blood nips at my ankles, as I zip and zag to avoid the plethora of bodies on the floor. 

I pause for a moment, to catch my breath. My lungs are burning and the calluses on my hand, grip tighter around my sword. 

I look around hopelessly. I look for a way out of my self-fulfilling prophecy. I would have kept running, however, towards my right-hand side. Down the bloody, cobblestone path that leads to the capital, Cassius. 

Golden-haired Cassius. 

Cassius with eyes like a snake. 

Cassius. 

“Cassius!” I yell out, trying to get his attention. From behind him, Pindarus, that bastard man. 

Pindarus ran up from behind Cassius, as I charged towards them, sword drawn. 

I wasn’t fast enough. 

Pindarus already delivered a fatal stab to Cassius’s abdomen from behind. Cassius barely had time to react. As I got within a meter of them, Cassius’s hand was resting on the point of the sword. 

I manically yelled out an anguished cry, taking my sword and rising it above my head. I let it plunge into Pindarus’s shoulder before I removed it and stabbed again. 

Pindarus removed his sword from the belly of Cassius. 

I was seeing red- too blind to see Cassius spitting out blood and hacking up deep-scarlet clots as he brought himself to the flood. 

My adrenaline gives me enough strength, sanity, and power to slay that bastard who killed Cassius. 

I leave my sword in the body of Pindarus. I watch him fall, no remorse left in my body to care.    
I take Pindarus’s sword and slip it into my scabbard, the blood of Cassius drips onto the cobblestone beneath me. 

I kneel to Cassius, placing my hands on his cheeks. 

“Cassius-” I gasp, my eyes looking into the fading light of his chartreuse eyes. 

“Brutus-” he calls out weakly.    
He has a somber smile on his lips, like the one Sir Caesar had. 

“I’ll take you out of here,” I promise to him. “I’ll take you somewhere safe.” 

I bring Cassius to his feet, taking his arm around my shoulder and I lead him, and his limping, dying body the long walk to the River of Thames. 

…

I set him down next to the bank, near the area we met before.    
The light in his ambitious eyes was fading fast. 

My adrenaline was running out and I had no energy left. No energy to move, no energy to think. 

I lie down next to Cassius, my head resting on his chest.

I hear his rasping, dying breath. Deep inhales, winces, and small curses leave his ruby-stained lips.

“Brutus-” Cassius weakly groans. 

I tilt my head to look at Cassius. 

“You have to run, Brutus. Get out of London. Get out of England,” he requests of me. 

“Cassius, not without you. I won’t go without you.” 

“You’re mad.” He told me, a deep cough leaving his heaving chest.

“I know.”

…

We lay on the muddy ground in silence. I listen to his dying breaths as I reminisce on the mornings we awoke together. My head pressed to his chest, listening to the thump of his steady heart and the beautiful sound of his breath. 

Our silent moment was interrupted by the drumming of unified footsteps

“Brutus…” Cassius rasps out. He sounded weaker than before, resembling the sound of the winter’s merciless wind. 

“Cassius? What is it?” I lift my head off his chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins once more. In the distance, a troop of soldiers and cavalry came our way.

“You're the only person I’ve loved.” He told me. He deeply grunted as he used the last of our strength to sit up. 

He places his pale, shaking hand, behind my head right at my nape. He pushed my head into it, so our lips could meet one last time. His lukewarm blood stains my lips like his. 

“Cassius- “ I shake my head, placing both of my aching hands on the sides of his face. 

“Tell me you love me, Brutus.” 

“I love you, Cassius.”

“I love you too, Brutus.” 

I peck him on the lips once more, as the final living breath fizzles out of his lugs.    
His body goes limp and I lay him down to rest. In anguish, I grab the sword that took the life of Cassius. 

Golden-haired Cassius.

Cassius. 

Cassius with the most ambitious, chartreuse eye that no one could dare pull off. 

I bring myself to my feet, the army growing closer. 

This is what I wanted in my last living moments. 

To die a free man. 

I plunge the bloody sword into my chest in one swift motion.    
As I topple to the ground, in immense pain. The sounds of war and bloodshed are around me. But all my mind is able to focus on is the gently rushing of the River of Thames, playful lapping at the banks, and lulling me into my final moments. 

So many extraordinary things were brought to me from the River of Thames. Love. Hate. Arguments. 

Resolution. 

And death. Death of my own being. Death of my soldiers.

Death of my dear, dear Cassius brings me back to simpler times. 


End file.
